Well Met
by Lena86
Summary: Preseries. Marian accompanies her father on a visit to Locksley village. Robin/Marian
1. Chapter 1

'Marian, I had hoped that you could keep your dress intact at least until we reach Locksley.'

The girl looked up at her father's mild reprimand. His eyes twinkled gently at her and she stopped trying to pick apart the hem of her dress.

'Why are we going to Locksley now in any case?' she asked.

'I have things to discuss with the Earl of Huntingdon,' he replied.

'Why can you not discuss these things at the council of nobles?' she asked, trying to hide the petulance in her voice.

Her father was silent a moment, then said, 'Ah, we have arrived.'

Marian looked out of the window to see Locksley Manor and was suddenly overwhelmed by a keen sense of… loss. She hadn't been here since she her mother died when she was four. Her memories of that time were only the vaguest of images. Always including her mother and Lady Locksley talking and laughing while the four year old Marian tried hard to escape their clutches.

That had been nine years ago, and since her mother died neither she nor her father had been here. Her father was too busy with his Sheriff duties and as far as Marian knew, Lady Locksley had been sick these past five years, a lingering illness that somehow made her husband age every time Marian saw him in Nottingham.

The man in question walked out of the house, smiling and spreading his arms wide as Marian and her father disembarked from the carriage.

'My lord Sheriff!' he greeted.

'Locksley!' her father returned. The two men shook hands and then embraced like old friends.

Marian lurked behind her father, feeling like baggage. Lord Locksley turned to look at her and smiled again. Marian noticed the man looked tired and careworn.

'This must be little Lady Marian.' He walked over to where she stood and looked at her appraisingly. 'Lady Marian, why so solemn?' he greeted.

She smiled reluctantly.

'That's better,' Lord Locksley said, 'my wife awaits us inside with our son. She will be pleased to see you,' he said, looking at Marian.

Marian and her father followed him towards the house. Marian had a sinking feeling, she had forgotten that Locksley had a son; the boy was noticeable only by his absence in Nottingham. She found herself wondering at the motive behind this sudden visit.

--

The boy, as it turned out was not present. His disappearance had agitated his father.

'I am sure he will turn up,' Lady Locksley said, her eyes, dulled by long illness, illuminated momentarily by amusement.

Locksley smiled at his wife, 'My wife spoils our son.'

They ate lunch, her father and Lord Locksley talking of their work until Lady Locksley sighed and loudly asked Marian who had made her dress.

After lunch, Marian was left alone with Lady Locksley while the men retired to another room.

Lady Locksley, apparently exhausted by the day lay down upon her bed. She motioned Marian to sit beside her.

'Look at you,' Lady Locksley said, her voice warm. 'A grown girl of thirteen, and so well behaved. My son would be put to shame, were he here.' She smiled at Marian, 'You look like your mother, you know,' she winced, 'I expect everyone tells you that.'

Marian nodded, her eyes on Lady Locksley's rug.

'You are young to be spending time with the old and the sick,' Lady Locksley said, 'Go outside and play. If you are anything like your mother you will be stifled by the talk downstairs and I am tired.'

'Thank you, Lady Locksley,' Marian said, dipping her head and heading out of the room.

Lady Locksley had been wrong, Marian was interested in what her father and Lord Locksley were discussing, however she had found no way to get near them. Frustrated and disappointed, Marian found herself wandering through Locksley, up into the long grass that lay between the village and the forest.

Suddenly an arrow flew past her, missing her by inches. She screamed, then felt slightly ashamed. The arrow had not _hit_ her, after all.

A voice came out of the trees. 'There! Now you've killed someone! Happy?' The voice sounded exasperated.

'I am sorry!' The second voice sounded terrified, and more than a little sulky.

A boy appeared, stalking out of the long grass, bow in hand. He stopped short when he saw Marian. He was dressed in what had – at some point – been a white shirt, but was now an interesting mixture of mud-brown and green. The boy's hair was a mess, grass sticking up through the too-long strands.

Marian regarded him disdainfully. This seemed to please him, for the boy smiled. As he did so, Marian felt herself smiling back, almost against her will. Then another boy emerged from the grass and ran into the first, sending him tumbling, rolling until he landed at Marian's feet.

The spell broke, Marian stepped back hurriedly, whipping her skirts out of the way of the ball of dirt and grass at her feet.

The second boy rushed forward, pushing blonde hair out of his eyes, and pulled his friend to his feet.

'Sorry,' the darker boy said, his eyes belying the sincerity of his tone.

Marian looked down, aghast, and realised she'd been too late in removing her skirts to a place of safety. The hem of her dress was covered in mud and grass stains.

'My father is going to kill you,' she said, shooting the dark haired boy a glare.

The blonde boy looked from his friend – smiling again, Marian noted – and back to Marian. He opened his mouth to say something.

'Its only a dress,' the dark-haired boy said, cocking his head to one side, green eyes regarding her with what was fast approaching inappropriateness.

She held his gaze fiercely for a few moments, then he turned and headed into the forest. She stared after him.

After going several yards he turned and walked backwards a few paces. 'Well come on!'

Marian frowned at the boy, then looked to his friend, who shrugged and said, 'We will help you clean up.'

Marian nodded and started after the boy, his friend at her side.

'I'm Much,' the blonde boy said.

Marian merely glanced at him disdainfully.

--

The boys had led her to a stream in the forest, where she'd cleaned her dress as best she could. When she was finished she rose and turned, finding that they'd apparently taken up their archery practice again.

She allowed herself to study them while they were otherwise engaged. Looking at them now, she could see they were a few years older than she, fifteen at the least. The face of the blonde one – Much – still bore a childlike chubbiness, making Marian think he was younger than the other, whose face was thinner, more adult.

At that moment the darker one was watching his friend draw the bow, murmuring instructions to him. She watched as Much let the arrow go, missing all targets entirely. The darker boy laughed, not unkindly, and went to fetch the arrow.

Much sank down on the grass beside Marian sighing. 'I'll never be as good as he is, and yet he insists on doing this.'

His friend returned and began firing arrows into the tree with pinpoint accuracy. _Showing off_, Marian thought wryly. All the same, she could not seem to tamp down thoughts of how good he was at it and found herself watching his face as he fired, the intensity in his gaze quite… stirring.

'You didn't tell me your name,' Much said conversationally. Marian glanced at him. He'd produced an apple from somewhere about his person and was eating it with every sign of blissful enjoyment.

'Marian,' she responded, slightly less annoyed now that her dress was – slightly – cleaner.

'Marian,' he repeated. Then choked on his apple. 'Marian?'

She nodded, her eyes on the darker boy again.

'Master!' Much yelled, startling the archer and causing his arrow – for once - to miss its target.

'Much!' the boy exclaimed, peeved.

'Master?' Marian repeated, puzzled.

'Master,' Much said, reaching the other boy's side. 'This is Marian,' - the boy continued to look blank – 'The daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham!'

A mischievous light came into the boy's green eyes. 'But this cannot be Marian Fitzwalter,' he said, walking over to her 'The Maid Marian is on her way to becoming a lady, and would never consent to come into the forest with boys she hardly knew. Especially not when one of them had tried to shoot her.'

'I did not try to-'

'Who are you?' Marian demanded, her eyes hard.

The boy had reached her, and suddenly Marian found herself overwhelmed by his sheer _presence_. He smiled at her and she had to stop her own lips curving upwards in response.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, his chivalrous actions betrayed by the smirk on his face. 'Robin of Locksley, my lady.'

She stared at him, her expression blank for a moment. Then she recovered sufficiently to snatch her hand away before his lips met her skin.

They stared at one another for a few moments. Much, who feared he had disappeared from their minds, cleared his throat.

Remembering herself, Marian looked away, annoyed by the smirk that appeared on Robin's lips. She eyed the bow in his hand. He saw her look and handed it to her, surprising her.

'Let us see if you can outshoot Much,' he said, smiling.

'Master!' Much protested.

Marian took the bow and the arrow the boy proffered. Obviously, he expected her to barely be able to draw the bow. Obviously he expected her to try and fail.

She set her mouth in a grim line and fired. The arrow found its mark in the tree Robin had been using for target practice minutes before.

She turned and handed the boy his bow, then she strode off in the direction of Locksley.

'Where are you going?' Robin called after her.

'Back to Locksley.'

'Why?'

The simple question threw her. She turned and glared at him. 'Because my father will be wondering where I am.'

'Not for a couple of hours, at least,' he said, 'its much more fun out here, with me and Much.'

Much rolled his eyes at his master, but Marian found herself smiling. 'What is there to do in a forest?'

'I'm sure we'll think of something.'

--


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! xx

I do not own Robin Hood. More's the pity.

--

'It is no good, master. We are surrounded.'

Robin stared at the floor, chewing his thumb thoughtfully.

'Master? Do you have a plan?'

Robin shook his head, not looking up.

'Half a plan?'

Robin shook his head again.

'Locksley…' called a voice from outside.

The boy looked up, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

'We have you surrounded, Locksley. You have nowhere to go.'

'Master!' Much said, his voice rising with panic.

'Shut up, Much!' Robin hissed.

'We are about to… about to lose and you sit there! Biting your thumb!'

'I am thinking.'

'Thinking!' Much muttered derisively. 'Your father is right! You are sixteen today and still playing childish games.'

Robin looked up, his mouth open in disbelief. 'This was _your_ idea!'

A voice floated down from the hayloft. 'I am sure it was, but you went along with it.'

Robin grinned. He looked up at Much to see his friend wore the same grin. Outside, the village boys began chanting and drumming against the side of the barn.

'Show yourself!' Robin called out.

Marian dropped to the ground in front of the boys. Her eyebrows were raised disapprovingly. 'You left me in the manor!' she hissed indignantly. 'You left me in the manor to come and play children's games with the village boys!'

'We are sorry,' Robin said, stepping towards her, 'We would perhaps be more sorry if you had not disappeared from the party half an hour before us.'

'And if you did not have straw in your hair.' Much added.

Robin grinned all the wider, and Marian dropped the disapproving look. Robin raised a hand to her hair and pulled out some of the hay.

'Locksley!'

Robin regarded Marian thoughtfully. 'How long have you been here?'

She smiled up at him. 'I got here five minutes after you did.'

Much was looking between the two of them, confused.

'And yet we did not see you,' Robin said.

Realisation finally dawned for Much. 'And neither did they.'

Marian shook her head, her features graced with a smirk, not unlike the one Robin was wearing. Then she turned and climbed back up the ladder into the loft, Much followed her, knowing Robin would rather find his own way up.

Robin stretched and caught hold of a crossbeam, easily pulling himself up into the loft. He grinned in response to the long suffering looks aimed at him by Much and Marian.

Marian moved to the side of the loft and pushed a plank. Robin joined her and peered through.

'They are all on the other side, expecting you to come out through the door,' Marian said.

Robin nodded. 'I will go out first, you two follow me.'

They climbed out of the barn, Robin catching Marian as she reached the ground and setting her on the floor, his hands lingering at her waist.

Much cleared his throat, feeling no small measure of satisfaction when Robin snatched his hands away guiltily. Marian felt a strange disquiet spread through her and stepped away from Robin, her eyes looking anywhere but his face.

'Shall we?' Robin asked, his tone slightly more acidic than was strictly necessary.

'Master,' Much protested, 'surely we should go back to the house? They will be wondering where you are.'

Robin grinned at his servant and shook his head.

'Master!' Much said, as Robin turned away and began to head around the back of the houses. 'Master! Surely not!' He looked at Marian, who shrugged and followed Robin. 'And you are as bad as he is,' he muttered, following them.

Robin, Marian and Much crept around behind the row of houses level with the barn. Reaching the back of the Scarlett's house, he began to climb.

'Robin!' Marian hissed indignantly.

He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned. 'Much, bring the horses around, quietly.' Much nodded and sped away. ''My Lady,' Robin said, smirking his insincerity at her, 'wait here until I return.'

'Robin!'

His eyes sparkled dangerously as he dropped to the ground in front of her. She looked up at him, suddenly very conscious of how much taller he was than she. Swift as an arrow, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then turned and scrambled up the side of the house.

On the roof, Robin crouched down, watching the village boys. As he heard Much bring their horses to the back of the house, he stood and fitted a blunt arrow to his bow. He released the arrow and it found its target, bouncing off the shoulder of one of the larger boys. The boy turned, looking at the people behind him, but it was Will, the carpenter's boy, who looked up at found Robin.

'There!'

Robin laughed and spun, climbing down the back of the house, jumping the last few yards to the ground.

Much was already in the saddle of his own horse, holding Robin's by the reins. Robin swung himself into the saddle, leaning down and grasping Marian's arm, pulling her up behind him.

Marian, at first shocked at his bold actions, soon recovered and put her arms around Robin's waist, doing her utmost to ignore the odd tingling sensation that spread through her limbs.

When Robin did not move, Much hissed. 'Master! We must make good our escape!'

As the village boys rounded the corner, led by little Will Scarlett, Robin laughed and urged his horse on, toward the forest.

--

It was hours later and afternoon had turned into night in that sudden way it does in October. Much had lit a fire and the three of them were sitting around it, listening to Much telling a story.

Apparently listening, at any rate. Much indeed was wrapped up in his tale. Marian, however, was having trouble keeping her attention on him. Rather, her attention was occupied by the boy sitting close by. _Too_ close by, if she was honest. Robin was looking into the fire, his fingers absently twirling an arrow. She was somehow aware that every now and then, Robin's attention, though not his gaze, flicked to her.

'Much,' the object of her attention said suddenly, startling both Marian and Much. 'I am hungry.'

Marian stifled a smirk, wondering if he knew how much the spoilt nobleman he sounded.

'We left a perfectly good feast in Locksley,' Much said pointedly.

'Sherwood will give us our feast!' Robin said, his tone telling them that this was fun. Somehow, Marian mused, it seemed to work.

'Robin, if you can find something edible, I will cook it!' Much challenged.

Robin disappeared into the trees.

After a moment's silence, Much said, 'You like him, don't you? Robin, I mean.'

Marian looked at the fire, feeling herself begin to blush.

Much nodded, apparently satisfied. 'I am glad. He needs good friends at a time like this.' He turned his attention to the fire, began throwing twigs into it. They crackled satisfyingly. 'Robin's mother is… well she's dying, if you want to know the truth. It's why we ran away from the feast. Its driving my master mad that no one will speak of what is obvious to everyone. That they would feast and pretend nothing is wrong.'

'It is his birthday,' Marian said.

'And she is his mother.'

Marian looked at Much. Robin's friend. His brother in more ways than one. Since she'd met them six months ago she'd been jealous of the easy friendship they possessed. Master and servant, but brothers too. She had no one like that, in Nottingham or Knighton.

She had become their friend. Robin hadn't seemed to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. The boy delighted in teasing her. Challenging her to prove she could keep up with them. That she could misbehave as they did. The difference was she was better at not getting caught. Though, rather than applaud this cleverness, Robin laughed at her.

'We probably will not be allowed to do this for much longer,' Much said, his tone almost despondent. 'Lord Locksley says it is time Robin stopped behaving like a child. And if Robin cannot, I cannot.' He sighed. 'I think Robin's father is worried about what sort of Lord he will become.' He pause and sighed. 'I think Robin is worried, too.'

Suddenly, Much looked up, panicked, as though he had only just realised she was there.

'Lady Marian, please do not tell him what I have said to you!'

Marian schooled her expression to one of seriousness and said, 'Do you think he will be angry?'

Now it was Much's turn to be wryly amused. 'No. I think he will laugh at me.'

Marian smiled, then looked around. 'Where _is_ Robin, anyway? We should be getting back to Locksley.'

'He is hunting in the dark,' Much pointed out, 'who knows how long he will be?' Marian rose and headed off in the direction Robin had gone. 'My lady, you should not go after him!'

'Stay here, Much, I will not be long.'

She headed into the trees, grateful when Much did not follow her. About five yards into the darkness of the forest, she began to feel uneasy. Watched. Much had been right, she should never have come into the trees alone; there _were_ outlaws in Sherwood, after all. She stood still, debating with herself about whether to go back.

Suddenly, something large dropped out of the trees, landing in front of her. She began to scream, then found a hand pressed against her mouth. She kicked out, hitting her attacker in the shins.

'Ouch!' A very familiar voice exclaimed. 'Marian! It is me!'

Recognising Robin's voice, Marian felt slightly abashed. Then angry. 'You should not have jumped out at me.'

'I can see that!' Robin's voice seemed to be coming from lower down than normal and Marian heard the rustle of leaves as he sat on the forest floor. Carefully, she sat beside him.

'I heard you talking to Much.' Robin said presently.

'Yes.'

There was silence for a moment, then: 'It is true about my mother. She is dying.'

Marian looked over at Robin, realised she really couldn't see him, and settled for looking straight ahead into the darkness of Sherwood. Robin would never usually speak about anything serious. She'd seen Much – and Robin's father – try to discuss important matters with him, but he always made light of the situation and avoided anything… painful. _'Perhaps it is the darkness,' _she thought.

'I am afraid my father will not long outlive her,' Robin went on.

Marian realised she was hearing something in his voice that hadn't been there before. A deep, almost painful love, tinged with worry.

'And I will be Lord Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon.'

'You will be good at it,' Marian said, somehow knowing as she said it that it was true.

'I do not think so.'

'I think so.'

They sat in silence for some moments. Then she heard Robin sigh and rise swiftly. 'We should get back before they send out a search party.'

Marian felt him stoop and take her hands in his, pulling her to her feet. He pulled a little too fast, and she stumbled as she rose, falling against him. She felt Robin tense, but found herself strangely unable to move.

The tingling feeling she had felt this afternoon when he pulled her onto his horse came back with a vengeance. Marian instinctively looked up at him, though she could not see him, and was shocked as she felt him press his lips to hers.

She froze momentarily, then found her mouth responding of its own volition, her hands cautiously sliding up over his shoulders and into his hair.

'Master!'

Marian and Robin backed away from each other at the sound of Much's voice. Marian felt a distinct sense of loss, until Robin's hand found her own. Silently they walked back towards the fire.

--

'Marian! Where on earth have you been?'

Marian looked up guiltily as she dismounted Robin's horse. Robin himself had elected to stay unmounted, seemingly aware that they should probably not be close again.

'With Robin, father,' Marian said, managing to keep her voice steady. Beside her, she saw Robin's mouth quirk upwards in the tiniest of smiles.

She fully expected her father to berate both of them for their impropriety, and, hoping to forestall him, said, 'Much was with us!' This caused Robin's smile to grow wider and Marian wished they were not in full sight of her father, so she could stamp on his foot.

'Never mind that,' Sir Edward said, he looked at Robin, a strange expression on his face. 'Robin, your mother…'

Robin dropped the reins he had been attempting to tie off and ran into the house.

--


	3. Chapter 3

Marian disliked being in Nottingham. The castle bore none of the warmth of Knighton Hall. More distasteful to her was the fact that she could not easily slip away and was instead forced to sit at her embroidery. In short, Marian was bored.

When she heard the horses approaching, she rushed to her window, expecting to see Robin and Much. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Lord Locksley and his manservant.

The two men dismounted and Locksley gave his reins over to his manservant and headed into the castle.

Marian sat down heavily on her bed and picked up her discarded embroidery, disappointed. Robin and Much had not visited her since Lady Locksley's burial, three weeks ago. She had not been surprised at first. However, as time wore on, she found herself missing Robin more and more. It was Robin she missed, she realised. The thought annoyed her and she jabbed the needle into her finger by accident.

She sighed and set down the needlework. Perhaps she should see what Lord Locksley was doing here. The man had seemed more disheartened than she'd ever seen him. Her decision made, Marian rose and left her room, heading for the Great Hall.

She paused in the stairway, hearing Lord Locksley speaking, his voice low and full of suffering.

'I must send him away, Edward. He must learn how to lead.'

'Can he not learn that in Locksley?'

Marian peered into the Hall, making sure she stayed hidden from sight.

Lord Locksley was sitting opposite her father at a small table that had obviously been brought in by the servants. The man was staring down at the table where his hands lay. Edward was watching him with a look of such compassion in his eyes that Marian wanted to go to her father, as though _he_ needed comforting.

'You have seen what Robin is like,' Locksley said, wry amusement showing weakly in his tone. 'He requires discipline. A stronger hand than I can offer at present.'

'What of the understanding between your son and my daughter?' Edward asked gently.

Locksley ran his hands over his face, sighing. 'He will only be gone for a few months.'

Marian could not see the man's face but she heard in his voice that there would be no swaying him on this matter. Robin would be sent away.

'My friend…' Edward began.

'The boy is too much of his mother!' Locksley said suddenly, his voice a low hiss. He rose abruptly and began to pace. 'His eyes, Edward… His eyes are exactly hers and I cannot bear it! If I cannot even look at him how can I teach him to lead?'

Edward regarded his friend for a moment. 'Have you told Robin of your intention?'

Locksley sighed and sank into his chair once more. 'No. But I think he knows. He always seems to know.' He looked up at the sheriff beseechingly, 'Edward, please understand, Robin must go away. I promise you it will not be for longer than a few months, we will have the wedding upon his return, but he _must_ go. I cannot bear him near me!'

Marian found herself holding her breath. After an interminable amount of time, her father nodded. Marian fled.

She had intended to go back to her room, but instead found her steps carrying her down into the stables. She saddled her horse and rode out of the gates, the blazing look in her eyes daring anyone to stand in her way.

-*-

When she reached Locksley, she dismounted and ran to the door. She entered, expecting to find Thornton; instead she was greeted by Much.

Much looked as though he had not slept at all in the three weeks since she had seen him. He was clearing a table of a largely uneaten midday meal.

'My Lady,' he greeted.

'Much,' she gave him a quick smile in greeting. 'Where is…'

'Robin?' Much interrupted. 'That is exactly what I would like to know. He does not sleep. He does not eat. How he has the energy to disappear from sight is a question I will never-' Much turned to face Marian, only to find her gone. 'Charming!'

-*-

Marian pushed her horse to a gallop into the forest. He was in here somewhere, she knew. How she knew was something she still did not quite understand.

At his mother's funeral, standing in the rain, Marian had slipped away from her father's side and stood by Robin's. As the priest said his final words over Lady Locksley Marian had felt Robin grasp her hand and squeeze it tightly.

If anyone had noticed this not-quite improper gesture, they had said nothing. Marian had found herself dizzied by Robin's hand on hers.

Afterwards, when everyone had left, Marian's father stayed a while, speaking in a low voice with Robin's. Robin had conveniently disappeared, and Marian sat alone for a time. Finally, realizing her father would be a while yet, Marian rose and left Locksley manor as quietly as she could. She found Robin up on the hill sitting with his back against a tree. His bow lay discarded on the ground beside him, alongside an empty quiver. He had been shooting arrows in the darkness. When he ignored her presence, Marian sat down beside him.

'You should not be here unchaperoned, my Lady,' Robin said, his tone flat and unemotional. 'People will talk.'

'Robin…' Marian began, willing him to speak to her. He was obviously feeling hurt and lost. She had hoped that he would speak his pain to her here, in the darkness.

'I am serious, Marian. You are not a child any longer. It is no longer proper for you to be alone with me.'

'Has so much changed in only a day?'

Robin glanced at her then, a brief flare of amusement in green eyes hidden beneath long lashes. Then he looked down into the village again.

After a few moments, Marian felt Robin's arm slide around her shoulders. She relaxed into his embrace and felt him turn and press his lips to her hair.

Now, riding along the Great North Road, she suddenly began to worry. What if Robin did not find her? What if he let her ride on, through the darkening woods until she gave up and went home? She would not see him before he left.

_Perhaps that is what he wishes_, Marian thought, _perhaps he wishes to leave and never see me again. Perhaps he hopes that when he returns he will be able to find a way not to marry me._

Angry, Marian stopped her horse. 'Robin!' When there was no response, she shouted again. '_Robin!_'

'You have heard, then?'

Marian turned to see Robin, apparently appearing from nowhere in the trees. She dismounted and ran to him, hurling herself against him.

Robin, shocked at her actions, took a few moments to recover, then slid his arms around her.

'It is not forever,' he murmured, his voice muffled against her hair.

'I was afraid you would go before I could see you.' She responded, her face buried in his tunic.

'I do not wish to go at all.'

Marian looked up at him, catching a look of fierce determination on his features. She reached up and put a hand to his cheek. 'You will go,' she said.

'Marian…' he murmured.

She pressed a finger to his lips, the bold move sending a frisson of _something_ through her. 'You will go, and you will come back and then-'

'And then we shall be married. We've not yet spoken on this, Marian.'

Marian looked up at him in the dwindling daylight, forcibly reminded of the last time they had been in the forest together. She found herself tilting her head back, her eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips, inviting him to kiss her. 'I was not aware we needed to speak on it, Robin.'

Robin's mouth descended on hers and Marian found herself pressing closer to him, her hands sliding up into his hair, the way they had only weeks ago. She could feel Robin's hands on her, one on her back, pressing him against her and the other cupping the back of her head.

Marian felt as though she was falling. Falling with only Robin to hold her upright.

After what felt like hours, while at the same time seemed only seconds, they parted, breathing harshly. They regarded each other solemnly for a few moments, then Robin leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips that was far more chaste than the last and said, 'I will take you home.'

-*-

It was fully dark when they reached Nottingham. Marian mounted on her horse with Robin riding behind. The guards watching the gate gave them a strange look as they rode through, one that Robin ignored and Marian returned with a glare.

They reached the stable and Robin helped Marian down from the horse in a display of quite unnecessary chivalry.

'Will you come inside?'

'I think you will be in enough trouble as it is,' Robin smirked.

'I _meant_ to say goodbye to my father.'

Robin shook his head. 'I must get back to Locksley. My father has not yet told me that he wishes me to visit Huntingdon. I think he will do so tonight.'

'But you-'

'Much and I heard him talking to Thornton.' Robin ran his thumb over her cheek. 'I will go…' He kissed her gently.

'…and you will come back…' Marian said, kissing _him_ this time.

'…and we shall be married.' Robin finished, kissing her again.

'Sounds like a plan.' Marian smiled.

Robin nodded and pulled himself into the saddle of her horse.

'Robin!'

'You didn't expect me to walk home, did you?' Robin asked, smirking at her, 'I'll have someone bring him back tomorrow.' He winked and reined the horse around, making it trot out of the stables, then gallop through the gates, startling the guards.

_Go away, come back, get married. Definitely sounds like a plan_, Marian thought.

-*-


	4. Chapter 4

On the day that Robin and Much set out for Huntingdon Marian consoled herself with the thought that it would only be for a few months. That they had no other choice. He was going for his father's sake, to save the man from despair every time he caught his son's eyes. For Locksley, to learn to be a better lord. Moreover, he was going for her, to learn to be a better husband.

When he did not return after six months, she consoled herself with the letters he sent, trying to blot out the feeling that something was wrong by finding amusement in his accounts of his efforts at lordship, and of Much's misadventures with the other servants of the place.

When he did not return after a year, she found herself spending less time responding to his letters, which in any case were a good deal shorter. She wished she could go to him, confront him in his neglect, wished she could believe it _was_ neglect. Something was different about Robin. She knew that if she could see him that she would know, and this was what stopped her demanding that her father let her go to Huntingdon.

April brought rain to Nottingham. Marian, restless in the castle after a long winter. Her father was less inclined to let her out on her own, now that she looked more the woman than the girl.

She sat looking out of her window at Nottingham castle, her chin resting on her hand, her eyes on the forest in the distance. After several long minutes spent like this, she realised she looked like one of the fainting blossoms she despised, pining away, and stood abruptly.

Knowing her father was occupied with his duties, she strode down to the stables, saddling her horse and mounting before any of the stable boys could speak. She rode gently towards the gate, breaking into a gallop just before she reached the portcullis, streaming past the guards in a vision of black horse and red fabric that they could not help but identify as their lord's daughter.

'We should stop her,' one of the guards remarked, leaning on his pike.

'You first.' His companion responded.

*

Marian slowed her horse as they entered the forest, moving at a more sedate trot as they progressed along the Great North Road. She road on gently, glad that the forest afforded some shelter from the rain.

Something was different, she decided. It had been many weeks since she had been in the forest, but something was different, something she could not place. It came to her as the arrow flew past her an embedded itself in tree.

_Robin_.

She turned her horse around, expecting to see Robin standing with Much. Instead, he was standing alone, looking up at her with every attitude of insouciance.

'Who is this who shoots at an unarmed woman in the forest?' Marian asked, her resolution to be angry fading away at the sight of him. _Almost_.

'Come down from your horse and find out, my lady.'

'I am not your lady, sir.'

'I think you are.' Robin shot back. 'And you are not unarmed.'

Marian slid down from the horse and regarded Robin for a few moments. He stood where he was; apparently content to see her at eye-level. Somewhat less than eye-level, Marian realised, Robin had grown much over the last year and a half.

'I assure you,' Marian said, marvelling at how she managed to keep her voice steady, 'that I am unarmed, sir.'

Robin grinned at her, enjoying the game. 'You lie, my lady. Your weapons are concealed, but present nonetheless.'

'If I have concealed weapons, I am ignorant of their presence. Would you care to enlighten me?'

Robin stepped forward and reached up into Marian's hair, extracting the hairpin and holding it in front of her eyes, his own sparkling brightly.

Marian stared at him, then recovered enough to say, 'A hairpin only.' She snatched it back and glared at him in mock defiance, 'And I'll thank you not to touch.'

Robin stroked his thumb over her cheek and Marian jerked her head away indignantly.

'You are angry with me, Marian,' said Robin, dropping all pretence.

Marian found she was angry, but also unable to look at him. He had changed since he had been away. Though still skinny, with hair that was still just that little bit too long, something in Robin's demeanour was different. After months of longing to see him, now Marian found she could not look at him.

'You have not written to me in weeks,' Marian said, horrified at the words and the mumbling tone they were delivered in even as they left her mouth.

'I have been saving it all up to tell you in person,' Robin said.

Marian looked up at him, an amused expression gracing her features.

'Do not laugh at me!' Robin protested, grinning himself.

'How can I help it when you are so amusing?'

Robin laughed, and then suddenly grew serious. He slid one hand around Marian's waist and drew her body against his own, kissing her deeply. Marian found her body moulding itself to his of its own accord, her lips parting without her command.

When Robin stepped back from her and she moaned without meaning to, Marian decided it was really too much and turned away, giving her attention over to the horse.

'I am glad to be home,' Robin said softly.

Marian turned at the tone in his voice, _something amiss there_. Robin never spoke so softly. His eyes were filled with something odd, something that looked like fear.

He was afraid of her.

Then Robin smiled and the strange shadow that had taken over his features melted away. 'How long before you are missed?'

'Some little while yet,' Marian responded.

'Tether your horse and walk with me for some little while.'

*


	5. Chapter 5

Lady Marian stepped silently down the stairs of Knighton Hall, willing herself not to disturb her father, asleep by the fire. By her reckoning, there were still at least two hours of daylight left. She intended to make the most of them.

In the months since his return, Robin had proved himself different. He spent more time than ever practicing weaponry, no longer always seeking to include Much.

His distance from his father was so pronounced it began to be remarked upon. With his father so sick, Robin often took his place at the Council of Nobles. He did not speak. Not, Marian knew, because he had nothing to say. On his good days, Robin loved his people. Loved them fiercely and with a compassion Marian suspected came of his closeness with Much.

The other nobles thought Robin arrogant when he did not appear in the same room as his father. Marian alone knew that when Robin _did_ find himself in a room with Lord Locksley, he kept his head bowed, his eyes averted from his father's face.

Each time she saw it, her heart went out to both Robin and his father. As Lord Locksley became sicker, and Robin's avoidance of him showed no sign of abating, the Lord became angrier with his son.

Much reported to Marian that Robin spent hours at a time apparently locked away in his room. Marian, however, knew differently. Robin spent those hours in the forest, always accompanied by only his bow and his sword.

He did not know that Marian watched him. Worried about him. Weighed down in a way she could not describe by his ring on her finger. A betrothal ring, but not a wedding ring. That was one part of the plan yet to be fulfilled.

She loved Robin. It was simple fact. Robin, however, seemed to be set on driving himself mad. It was as though Nottinghamshire, once his world, had grown suddenly too small. Locksley could not stretch to contain the man who would soon be its lord.

Today would be different, Marian resolved, mounting her horse, the unfamiliar weight of the sword she carried making her movements unsteady.

*

She found Robin soon enough. She always did. It was another aspect of their relationship upon which Marian preferred not to dwell, sensing that it somehow weakened her.

She tethered the horse and watched Robin for a few minutes. He was working with his longbow today, his sword sheathed at his waist.

As she had years before, when first she met Robin, Marian found herself reluctantly impressed by his prowess. Robin was far more skilled with the bow than the sword, and he was no mean sword-fighter.

_Well, neither am I._

'Robin,' she said softly, trying to attract his attention without placing herself in his sights.

He turned, lowing the bow only marginally. 'Marian.'

'Where were you today? You were supposed to call on me.'

'Forgive me, I was distracted.' Robin turned from her and began to fire arrows once more, plucking them from the quiver and fitting them to the string in one fluid movement.

Marian knew well what had distracted Robin. According to her father, Lord Locksley was finally so ill he had taken to his bed. Marian stood and pulled her sword from its sheath.

Robin turned at the sound, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. 'What are you doing, Marian?'

_He possessed of an odd humour tonight_, Marian thought. She stepped closer to Robin, watching him note her stance. It was not the one of an untrained girl.

'My father, though encouraging to begin with, would prefer it if I did not continue to practice now I am to be married.' She paused, expecting Robin to give her a pretty compliment, and try to dissuade her. He did not; he merely stood there, watching her intently. 'I thought perhaps you could use someone to teach, seeing as you have learned so much…'

If she had thought flattering him would work, she was mistaken. 'Who are you and what have you done with my Marian?' Robin demanded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Inwardly, Marian smiled: he was still in there somewhere, then. 'Fine. But spar with me, Robin. I cannot take another day of embroidery waiting for you to be too distracted to call upon me.'

'It is improper.'

'Nonsense. We are to be married. It is entirely proper that you call on me.'

'Marian!' He exclaimed, exasperated.

'Robin?' She challenged.

Robin turned from her, and for a moment she thought he would refuse. However, he leaned his bow reverentially against a tree, and turned back to face her, drawing his sword.

_An odd humour indeed._

Without further discussion, they began to circle one another. She could almost feel the intensity of Robin's gaze on her, measuring her up. She did the same. Robin's sword was heavier, but then, so was he. She also had the advantage that he could not know how skilled she was, whereas she had the measure of him.

That last was not entirely comforting, Marian mused as they stepped forwards, their swords meeting with a satisfyingly loud clang. Robin attacked and Marian parried, taking advantage of his surprise to lunge for him. Robin spun away, and they began to circle one another again.

They continued in this way for what seemed like an age. Irritated at Robin's circumspection, Marian forced him back until he was forced to turn or trip over a tree root, then she caught him a wallop across the back of his legs with the flat of her sword.

'_Marian!'_

'What?' she asked, all innocence.

Robin grinned at her expression, then began to fight in earnest, slowly but inexorably forcing her back. When the fabric of her dress touched the bark of one of the trees behind her, Marian held up her sword warningly.

'Do not come any closer, Robin!'

'Or what?'

'I'll scream.'

'Scream? The fearless fighter Lady Marian? Surely not.'

'Perhaps not.' He had lowered his sword. Marian smiled. 'Very well, you leave me no choice,' Marian said. She shifted her sword in her hand and used it to flick his out of his grip, making it land several yards away. The she brought her sword back up to point at Robin's chest.

She looked to where Robin's sword had fallen with a satisfied expression, then turned to Robin. 'It appears you are unarmed, Robin of Locksley.'

'I love you.'

In the silence that followed, Marian and Robin stared at one another. That which was known and silently acknowledged now spoken for the whole forest to hear.

She looked at him, seeing that for the first time in months he appeared to be entirely _here_, as though suddenly brought into focus. 'Robin, I-'

'Master!'

Robin's eyes fell closed as Much's voice sounded through the trees. Marian looked down at the sword in her hands, still aimed at Robin's heart. She lowered the sword and looked back up at Robin's face.

His eyes were still closed as he spoke, 'What is it, Much?'

'Master… your father…' Much panted.

Robin's eyes opened, and to Marian he seemed to be unfocused once again. Lost. _He wants to get away from this, _she realised. She wanted to reach out to him, but Robin had already turned away.

He bent to collect his sword, then picked up his bow. Turning to Much, he said, 'Escort Lady Marian to Knighton, then come directly home.' Then, without a look over his shoulder, Robin stalked off in the direction of Locksley, leaving Marian and Much alone in the forest.

*

Marian stood in her room in Knighton Hall, her sword held out in front of her, daring the bedpost to make a move. She was angry. Her anger manifested itself in lightning-fast attacks on an invisible opponent.

She was angrier with herself, more than anything. She should have insisted that she accompany Robin home. It would be her home after all, in time. She had seen in the forest, the moment he turned away from her, that the old Robin had once again been replaced by the new. If she had gone with him she could have –

'Could have what?' Marian asked aloud, her mind finding no completion of that thought.

There was a tapping sound at her window, she realised. Knowing full well whom it was tapping at her window, Marian laid down the sword then opened the shutters.

Robin climbed in and stood in her room, looking around him in a dazed fashion.

'It is more polite to use the door,' Marian said to break the silence when he did not speak.

'It is the middle of the night,' said Robin, moving over to her fireplace and standing with his back to her, watching the flames.

'I am awake.'

'But your father is not.'

Marian sat on the bed, watching him for a few moments. 'Your father?'

'He is alive. Sick, but alive.'

'That is good to hear. I was worried.'

'I knew you would be.' Robin brought both hands to his face and scrubbed them over it.

'You are tired, you should go home and rest, Robin.'

'I cannot stay.'

His words were quietly spoken, so quietly Marian wished she could pretend she didn't hear them. She could at least pretend she did not know their meaning. 'That is what I told you. You should go home.'

'No,' Robin said, still not looking at her. 'I cannot stay here, in Locksley.'

'You are not in Locksley.'

'You are wilfully misunderstanding me!' Robin hissed, turning to face her.

'Yes I am,' Marian returned, 'because you are tired and do not mean what you say.'

'Yes,' Robin said, 'I am tired, but that does not mean I do not mean it. I must leave.'

'Do not be ridiculous!' Marian scoffed. 'Where will you go?' But she knew the answer. Had known for some months, though she tried to deny it. After all, at least five young men known to Robin had taken up the cross now. And Robin was the best of them; it had only been a matter of time.

But Robin loved his land, loved his people, loved _her_. Surely, he would not abandon them? She needed to hear him say it.

Robin looked at her, and for a moment she saw something helpless in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the light of ambition. By the time he spoke, Marian already found herself hating the sound of his voice.

'I will go with the King, to the Holy Land.'

*


	6. Chapter 6

Marian stared at him, aware that her mouth was open. 'You cannot.'

'Why not? Others my age are going! Why should I not go too? I have skills to offer the King that are far in advance of theirs'

'You are needed here,' Marian said, 'Your father-'

'My father has come to hate me.' Robin said, turning away from her again and staring at the fire. 'I do believe I am making him sicker.'

His tone was so despondent, so very _unRobinlike_ that Marian rose and moved to his side, placing a hand on his arm. She almost flinched when she felt the tension there. 'He does not hate you.'

Robin snorted derisively.

'Robin, you cannot desert Locksley, you cannot desert your father!'

'I am not deserting anyone! I am doing what is right. You would keep me here to stifle until there is nothing left of me!'

'I would-' Marian began, then lowered her voice when she realised she was shouting. 'I would keep you here to take care of your people!'

'I am going to reclaim the Holy Land for my people!' Robin hissed back at her.

'Your people are farmers and smiths. They do not even know where the Holy Land is. But they know when their Lord deserts them!'

'I am not the Lord of Locksley.' The words were spoken quietly, carefully even, as though he were trying to contain himself.

'You are the Lord in all but name. It is you your people look to.'

'I am going.' Robin said, his eyes hard as they held her gaze.

'Your mind is made up. What would you have me say, Robin?'

'I would have your understanding and your blessing. Marian, you know me better than anyone, you know I am right.'

Marian glared up at him. 'I know no such thing. I cannot condone this.'

'You _will_ not!'

Marian turned away from him, her skirts whirling about her ankles. 'No, I will not.'

Robin reached for her, placing a hand on her arm to turn her. 'Marian.'

'Get out, Robin.'

'Marian, I-'

'Don't, Robin. Don't you dare complete that sentence!' She jerked her head up to glare at him, but met Robin coming the other way. She stiffened slightly as his mouth touched hers, but then kissed him back. One hand slid up his chest into his hair, her nails digging into his skin.

She pushed him back, feeling his head hit one of the bedposts. Robin moaned, but didn't stop kissing her. She could feel Robin's long fingers digging into her waist, his other hand was lodged in her hair. As his tongue slid between her lips, Marian tightened her grip on him, feeling her nails scrape over his skin.

When they finally parted, Marian looked up at Robin. She spoke softly. 'I cannot love a man who would cast aside his people for his own ambition. Neither can I marry that man.'

'I know.' Robin looked much older than his eighteen years.

'You will not change your mind?' He shook his head. 'Then leave.'

Robin moved past her towards the window. Marian turned her back, unable to watch him leave.

'I will come back, you know.'

Unseen by Robin, Marian raised her hand to her mouth in a bit to stop herself speaking. She was afraid that if she spoke, she would cry – or scream – and she couldn't allow him to see that.

After several moments, she heard Robin leave. She stood stock-still. It was something she had learned when she was very young, when her mother died. If she stood still enough, if she let the turmoil flood through her, she could control it. Could push it deep down inside where it could not hurt her.

But really, this was too much. This was Robin and he was leaving her. She gasped; the sound muffled by her hand, and fell to her knees by the fire. She stared at the flames, watching them dance and lick at the logs. She found herself focusing on the fire. With the days getting warmer, the servants wondered at Lady Marian, still requesting a fire in her room at night.

The truth was that Marian slept with her window open more often than not, Robin had gotten into the habit of calling upon her at night, dragging her out through the window and onto the back of his horse. They rarely spoke on those excursions, and as warm as she was in the time they spent together, Marian was chilled when he returned her to Knighton.

And now he was leaving her for blood and glory in the Holy Land.

Marian sobbed.

-*-

The next morning, Marian's maid found her mistress curled up asleep by the ashes of last night's fire. The woman gently woke the girl and pulled her to her feet.

'Thank you, Mary.'

'You're welcome, my Lady.' The woman moved to Marian's wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. 'Your father has requested that you come to Nottingham, my Lady.'

'I will go when I have dressed.'

'Much from Locksley is downstairs. Master Robin's manservant.'

-*-

When she arrived downstairs, she found Much standing by the front door, looking uncomfortable.

'If you have a message from Robin I cannot pretend I am interested in hearing it,' said Marian, brushing past him on her way to the stables.

Much followed her. 'Robin did not send me. He does not know I am here. In fact he told me I was forbidden to come here.'

Marian's hands stilled in their work readying her horse.

'I know,' Much said, seeing this. 'Normally I would not do anything against Robin's will, but… Marian, he loves you. Surely…'

'Surely, what, Much? He is leaving, chasing glory above all else. I cannot accept that.'

'He wants to prove himself to his father, he thinks this is the way to do it.'

Marian snorted derisively. 'And what do you think?'

'I am just his servant, it is not for me to question him.'

Marian turned to look at Much. She was surprised, both at him and herself. At Herself for forgetting, and at Much for insisting on the distinction. 'You know Robin does not think of you thus.'

'And you know that is not the point. My Lady.'

'You're following him in this folly, aren't you?' Marian demanded.

'It is my duty.'

'Robin should not force you to go to war because you are his servant. It is not like him.'

'He is not. It is my choice.'

'You don't sound sure.'

'This is beside the point!' Much said urgently. 'He is worse since last night than ever before. He must go - he is resolved to go – but he loves you.'

'I cannot force him to stay, Much. I am not sure I want to, now he has turned out to be just another bloodthirsty thug.'

'He is not-' Much burst out indignantly.

'Then why is he going?' Marian interrupted. 'If he is not like that, if he loves me, why must he go?' She spun to look at the horse.

Much stepped forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'He must go because he is Robin, and he has made up his mind.'

'Then why are you here?' Marian asked.

Much stepped back as she turned to face him. 'We leave the day after tomorrow at dawn. Robin has been in the forest since early this morning.'

Marian nodded and led the horse out of the stables. She pulled herself into the saddle. 'Goodbye, Much. I hope I see you again.'

'Goodbye, my Lady.'

Marian pushed the horse to a gallop, riding for the forest. _I am just riding to Nottingham,_ she told herself, _If I see Robin then it is fate. If I do not… well, then that is also fate._

She rode quickly towards Nottingham, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. She was aware, however, that her mind was finely tuned to the forest around her, seeking Robin out against her will.

Her attention alerted her to his presence, picking him out among the trees. She pulled her horse up, wheeling around to face him. She watched as he moved easily through the undergrowth towards her.

He was wearing a white shirt, covered by a green tunic, looking more like the boy she knew than the man he was becoming. His bow was held loosely in one hand. Marian felt strange, watching him come towards her like that; as if she was seeing something from a dream. He stalked, rather than walked, she realised, and he did not smile.

'On your way to Nottingham?' he asked as he reached her.

'My father summoned me.'

Robin nodded. 'They are throwing a feast in honour of those going to the Holy Land. There are five others going.'

Marian nodded. She had heard. 'I will see you there.'

'I… for god's sake, Marian, come down from your horse.'

She slid down from her horse, noting that Robin stepped back, the fingers of his free hand flexing as though he were having trouble controlling himself.

'You were saying?' Marian snapped, when Robin's eyes lingered on her and it became apparent she would have to jolt his brain out of whatever daydream it was inhabiting

'I do not think I will be attending.'

'You would steal away like a thief in the night?'

'No!'

'Then you should attend the feast.'

'And will you speak to me, if I do?'

Marian looked at him, cocking her head on one side. 'Does it matter?'

'Yes.' Marian ran his hand over his face and through his hair. It was shorter, Marian realised, obviously it had been cut in preparation. 'It matters what you think of me, Marian.'

She wanted to press him, to demand to know how he dared to ask her to forgive him, to speak to him, when he would not bend in his resolve. But she did not. She pulled herself back up into the saddle and turned her horse towards Nottingham. 'If you do not come,' she said over her shoulder, 'you will not find out.'

-*-

'Which dress, Lady Marian?'

'The red one, I think.' Marian sat in front of the mirror in her dressing room at Nottingham castle.

'Would you like me to help you dress, my Lady?'

Marian shook her head. 'You may go and get ready too.'

The girl nodded and left the room. Marian rose and pulled her dress on, lacing the front closed. Her eyes fell on her dressing table, where Robin's betrothal ring lay.

A knock on the door startled her. 'Come in.'

Her father stepped into the room, wearing his finest clothes. 'You look lovely, Marian.'

'Thank you, father.'

He moved further into the room, towards her dressing table. Picking up the ring, he turned his eyes to her. 'Is there something you would like to tell me before we go downstairs?'

Marian raised an eyebrow inquisitively. 'Concerning what?'

'Concerning this,' Edward said, holding out his hand, the ring resting comfortably in the centre of his palm.

Marian took the ring and looked at it, before concealing it in a pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. 'Somehow I think there is nothing I could tell you that you do not already know.'

'You could have married before he left.'

'No,' Marian said, 'I could not have gone through with it knowing he would leave me.'

'He is not leaving you, my dear.'

'How can you take his side in this?' Marian demanded.

'I am not. I like Robin. I believe he will come back.'

'If he survives.'

'Even if he does not, it would be better for you in the long run if you were to-'

'Father!'

'Think on it, Marian. I am sure Robin has.' Edward turned and headed out of the room, pausing in the doorway. 'He is here, by the way.'

-*-

Throughout the feast, Marian felt Robin's eyes on her. She ate little, noting that he ate nothing, but drank a good deal. His sat next to his father and Marian watched as Lord Locksley tried to make conversation with his son, only to be rebuffed again and again.

When the food was cleared away and the hall given over to dancing and entertainment, Lord Locksley walked over to her father. Marian noted how the nobleman walked upright, the pain he was in only showing in his eyes.

After greeting the other man, Edward motioned for him to sit beside him. Marian's eyes sought out Robin. He was standing on the other side of the hall, leaning against the wall and watching the crowd. Catching her looking at him, he stood and nodded at her, calling her over. Then he disappeared out of the hall.

Marian followed, leaving her father and Robin's in deep conversation. She found him in the corridor outside, leaning against one of the window ledges. 'Robin,' she greeted.

'Marian, you look… striking.' He slurred his words slightly, making Marian realise he was the worse for the drink he had consumed.

'You're drunk,' she said flatly, turning to walk back into the hall.

Robin's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, 'Don't leave me.'

Marian glared up at him. 'I think you'll find it is you who is leaving me.'

'Marian, don't. Please. I am doing what I feel I must. I do not wish to argue about it anymore.'

She looked up at him, wishing she could make him see sense. Wishing that her pride would allow her to beg him to stay, to tell him that without him here, her future seemed empty. The problem was that he looked too tired to argue, she decided. It was as though everything that made him Robin was being poured into his resolve to go and he had nothing left for her.

She sighed and leaned on the ledge beside him. 'What then, Robin? What is it you would have me say?'

'I would have your understanding, Marian.'

'I cannot give it to you.' Marian whispered.

Robin pushed away from the window ledge and began to pace, his movements somehow more catlike than ever now he was drunk. 'There are others going. Their wives are supporting them!'

Marian stared at him, waiting for him to realise what he had said. When he did not, she said, 'I am not your wife, Robin.'

He stopped short and turned to look at her, staring at her for several long moments before saying, 'You could be.'

'Hardly the offer of a lifetime,' Marian remarked dryly.

'I am serious, Marian, we could be married before I go.'

'My father said something similar.'

'It is a good plan!'

'It is no plan at all. Not even half a plan!'

'Marian, do not be so difficult!'

'I am not being difficult! I am being myself. I cannot marry you like this.'

'And I cannot stay.'

Marian stood up straight and held out her hand to Robin. 'This belongs to you, I think.' The ring sparkled in her palm.

'Marian…'

'If you expect me to wait while you gallivant off to the other side of the world in search of glory you are insane, Robin. I am not going to wait here, wearing your ring, on the off chance that the man who deserted both me and his people will return.' She reached for his hand and forced it open, pressing the ring into it.

Then she spun on her heel and headed back into the party, pausing just before she reached the door to the Great Hall. She turned and looked at him, standing in the light from the window, regarding the ring in his hand with a blank expression on his face. 'I am sorry, Robin.'

He didn't look up. 'Me too.'

-*-


	7. Chapter 7

It was dark when a messenger arrived at Knighton Hall. Marian stood out of sight on the stairs and watched her father open the door, his sword in his hand. In these times the sword was necessary, if only for his own peace of mind.

The man stumbled into the house, breathless. Marian recognised him as Thornton, Lord Locksley's man. For Locksley to have sent Thornton on this mission, the situation must be dire indeed. _Robin_.

Thornton spoke. 'My Lord Edward, Lord Locksley requests your presence immediately.'

'Can he not wait until morning?' Edward asked, 'The roads are not safe.'

'He cannot. My Lord… my Lord is dying. Please, you must come.'

Edward nodded and began to pull on his cloak. Marian stepped out of the shadows and began to descend the stairs. 'Father, I will accompany you.'

Edward looked up at his daughter, ready to disagree, but something stopped him. After her mother had died, his young daughter had become quiet, cold and distant. Then, her friendship with Robin had changed her, made her laugh more easily. The last two years had seemingly set Marian back on the path she had been following before Robin, as though the boy had never existed.

_No_, Edward thought, _that is not right. Robin's desertion has made her colder._ Since he had been replaced in Nottingham by Vaisey, six months ago, and after her sickness that had followed Robin's departure, Marian had become even more withdrawn, and was seldom at home.

'Fetch your riding cloak, and be quick!' Edward said. Marian disappeared upstairs once more, only to return seconds later with the cloak over her shoulders, as though she had made it ready before Thornton arrived. As though she were waiting to go out.

Edward realised there was no time to puzzle over this and together they left for Locksley.

*

When they arrived, Marian and her father were ushered into Lord Locksley's bedroom. The man lay in his bed, looking far smaller than he had any right to.

'Edward, my friend. I am glad you came. And Marian, it is good that you are here.'

Marian's father moved to his friend's bedside. Despite Lord Locksley's warm welcome, Marian stayed at the edge of the room. 'Robert,' Edward said, taking the man's hand.

In spite of the gravity of the situation Marian found herself wondering at her father's use of the man's Christian name. She knew it, of course, but the man was seldom called thus. He was Lord Locksley, always had been. Even his wife had called him Locksley. She remembered once asking Robin about it. He had laughed and explained that it was a joke between his parents that his father, though Earl of Huntingdon, had always preferred the much less grandiose manor of Locksley. Marian had thought at the time that Robin was a fine one to talk, having never visited Huntingdon in his life.

'I am glad you came, both of you. I do not deserve your company.'

'Do not be ridiculous, my friend.' Edward admonished gently.

Locksley looked over at Marian. 'Marian, come here child.' She stepped closer to the bed. 'I am glad you are here, Marian. For two years I have been too proud to speak with you. To apologise. I have wronged you, Lady Marian.

Marian looked confused, but noted that her father seemed unsurprised. 'You should, rest, sir.'

'Do not try to hush me, child, these could be my last words.'

Marian felt tears begin to prickle her eyes and looked down. She had never felt especially close to Robin's father, but the man looked so lost now, so unhappy.

'I wronged you, Marian. I should have stopped him. He should not have been permitted to leave. It was my fault.' His eyes closed for a moment. He seemed to be fading away.

Edward looked up at his daughter. 'It will not be long, now, child. Perhaps you should wait for me downstairs.'

Marian shook her head. 'I will wait here.'

Suddenly, Lord Locksley's eyes opened again. 'Edward? Edward?'

'I am here, my friend.'

'Edward, where is my son?'

'Your son fights in the Holy Land alongside King Richard.'

'Robin,' the man mumbled. 'Robin always ran when he should walk. I should have been a better father. But his _eyes_, Edward. And his anger. When Robin is angry there is nothing that can stop him. I was not a good enough father. I angered him. Locksley was not enough to keep him here.' He turned his eyes to Marian. 'You could have been enough, you were enough, if I had not… Edward I sent my son away! My only son. And now I leave my people with no lord.'

Marian gasped. _Does he mean that Robin-_

'You have had word from the Holy Land?' Edward asked, his mind seemingly following the same path as his daughter's.

'No. No word. I know not whether he lives or dies. All is as Robin would have it. He was taught so much, his mother insisted he have everything. And I could no more deny her than I could him. So much talent, so skilled was my boy. But now my son has no love for me.'

'That is not true!' Marian burst out, unable to contain herself.

'Marian!' Her father reprimanded.

'Robin loved you sir,' Marian said fiercely. 'And wherever he is, whatever he is doing, he loves you still. He uses his skills to prove himself to you. He left because he loves you, because he wants you to be proud of him.'

The old man looked at her for a long moment, studying her with an intensity Robin had surely inherited from him. 'When my son comes home,' he said, his voice barely above a whisper, 'When he comes back to you, you must tell him. He must know that I was always proud of him. You are a good child, a good woman. I know that you will tell him.'

*

When they commenced the ride back to Knighton it was growing light. Marian said nothing, she had not spoken since her last words to Robin's father. The man had hung on for a couple of hours after he had lost the ability to speak. Marian and her father had watched over his deathbed in silent vigil.

And now he was dead and it was time to go home. Marian knew her father was watching her closely.

'They say the sheriff will entrust the Locksley estates to Guy of Gisbourne until Robin's return.'

'Gisbourne?'

'The sheriff's right hand man.'

'The lackey with the black leather?' Edward concealed a smile and nodded. 'He is landless, no doubt he has designs on Robin's estates.'

'You still care for him,' her father said delicately.

'Robin should be here, protecting his people. He is a fool,' Marian said, urging her horse to go faster to avoid the conversation.

Edward stared at his daughter's back. 'A fool? Perhaps. Yet still you care for him. Quite deeply, I think.'

*


	8. Chapter 8

Robin awoke from another dream of blood and sand. There were sounds outside the tent. He was aware of yelling – _screaming_ – for Much. They were attacking the King. He had a bow, he had arrows, and he was Robin.

Three simple facts that had brought him through the last few years of non-stop skirmishes and battles. Bow, arrows, Robin. A deadly combination as Much had remarked one night. That innocent remark had sent Robin out into the cold of the desert.

He was firing arrows. He was aware of it happening. He was always aware. It was an art. When he ran for the King's tent and saw the tall Saracen there he drew his sword. He was no longer aware. He was no longer rational. He was no longer Robin.

He felt the Saracen's sword cut deeply into his side. Robin's world suddenly became highly focussed. Colours were alternately deeply saturated or all too dull. Time was running far too slowly. This was dangerous, Robin knew. He was dying. Time was slowed to enable him to save his own life.

It was a choice he was not able to make. Robin dimly saw himself inflict enough damage on the Saracen to force him to retreat; saw the man's tattoo split in half by his sword. Then Robin was gone. Back to dreams of blood soaked sands.

*

When the King's physician exited the tent, he was covered in Robin's blood. Much found his mouth dropping open. Robin was a skinny thing, always had been, how could he possibly have so much blood in him? More importantly, how could he lose so much blood and yet live?

'My master,' Much began. Then he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder and turned to see King Richard standing there.

'How fares the Earl of Huntington?'

'He lives,' the physician said, wiping his hands, 'Though I would not like to say for how long. I have stitched the wound, but he has taken a fever. If it does not break soon, then he will be in need of a priest, not a physician. I have done all I can, sire.'

'I take it he is not fit to travel?' King Richard asked.

'It would most likely kill him, sire.'

The King nodded his dismissal and the physician disappeared into the desert night.

'I will check on Robin,' the King said, 'Much, I am afraid we cannot linger here. I must move on tomorrow.'

'My master cannot be moved, sire, the physician said so.'

'Robin cannot move, but I must. We must avenge this attack. You understand that I would stay and wait for Robin to be well if I could?'

'You have no need to explain to me, sire.' Much said.

The King grasped Much's upper arm then strode past him and into the tent that contained Robin. Much stared after the man. He was the King and he cared for Robin, Much knew that. Robin was the captain of his guard. Robin was an excellent soldier, as though it was something he had been born to do.

Nevertheless, Robin read the Qur'an. Robin had developed something that, if it was not exactly sympathy, was understanding. Not that Robin fought any less hard. Watching Robin fight was like watching some terrible, beautiful animal. But Robin was not there, not really.

Much had seen the blankness that overtook Robin when he fought. Sometimes it lasted the whole night afterwards. He did not eat. It seemed to Much that he only slept to dream of the fighting.

After several moments, the King exited the tent. He handed Much some papers, bearing his official seal. 'If he wakes, give him this.'

Much bowed and the King brushed past him. Dimly, Much could hear him giving orders to strike the camp.

Much stared down at the papers in his hand. _If he wakes_. The King was a good man. Robin loved the King. Much loved Robin. Therefore, Much had to love the King. _If he wakes_.

Much found his feet had apparently turned to stone. He dragged himself into the tent. Robin lay on the bed, blood covering the sheets. Robin was so very pale. Much remembered a time when they were very young, probably about six years old, when Robin had been sick. The skinny dark haired child had lain in his bed for days. Much had been relegated to the kitchen, but had managed to sneak into Robin's room each night to keep an eye on him.

On the third night of Robin's sickness, Much had entered Robin's room to find Lady Locksley sitting by her son's bed. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks were wet. Much tried to leave the room before she noticed him, but Lady Locksley, in some ways, was very like her son. And Much had never been able to sneak up on Robin.

'_Come in, Much. You are early today.'_

_Much was ready to be scolded. He was not supposed to be here, he knew. His place was in the kitchen. _

'_You should not be here, Much.' Lady Locksley said gently, her soft words echoing Much's thoughts. 'Robin is very sick. He could make you sick.'_

_Much refused to move. 'He needs me, my Lady. He has bad dreams.'_

'_Come here, Much.'_

_Much moved closer to his mistress. Lady Locksley surprised Much by pulling him into her lap. This enabled him to see Robin better. He was so still. In all his young life, Much could not remember seeing anyone so still. _

_They sat like that until dawn. Both of them watching over Robin._

Much looked around the tent. 'A disgrace,' he muttered. Then he began to tidy up, locating clean sheets and carefully shifting Robin onto them. He forced himself to ignore how light Robin was, how every rib dug into his hands as he moved his master.

Then Much sat beside the bed, preparing to watch until Robin woke up.

*

Robin was not aware. He was not aware of Much sitting by his side, of the man's whispered prayers to a God who, if Much was honest with himself, he blamed for Robin's current situation.

'Marian…' Robin's voice was little more than a whisper, hoarse through dehydration. Much dabbed at Robin's fevered forehead with a damp cloth.

*

_The forest. Always the forest. Logically, Robin knew it was a long way between Acre and Nottinghamshire, but somehow, all he had to do was think himself home and he was. He stood in Sherwood Forest, looking down on Locksley through the trees and fell to his knees, giving thanks that he was here. He was home. His clothes were those of the young nobleman he was, soft, thin cloth and he was unarmed. His relief at finding himself with neither sword nor bow was palpable, and made him feel vaguely guilty._

_But Locksley was empty. The forest was empty. Robin knew it was so, he could feel it. He was alone here. Then he was not. He stood and turned, knowing whom it was he would see. It was always the same. As she came into view, Robin was again wearing his Crusader's garb. White robes saturated in blood. Behind him, where Locksley should have been, stood blood soaked desert. He could hear the sounds of battle._

_Marian stood in the forest, all was quiet around her. Robin tried to step towards her but found himself hampered by his chain mail. _

'_Marian…'_

_Marian moved to him and pulled him into her arms. Then she screamed. Robin stepped back to see what was wrong. Marian was covered in blood. Her clothes were bright red with it. Then she was torn from his arms. Robin looked beyond her into the eyes of the tattooed Saracen who had attacked the King. The man thrust at Robin with his sword, leaving him bleeding in the sand._

'_Marian!'_

*

Robin opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the tent fabric above his head. It was hot. He was in a tent. Therefore, he must be in the Holy Land. 'Much?'

'I am here Robin. I am here.' Much sounded tired, his voice comforting, as though he believed Robin still unconscious.

'The King.'

'The King is safe, Robin. You saved him. Saved him so he could leave us in this Godforsaken place.' The last sentence was muttered and obviously not intended for Robin's ears.

Robin laughed. Or attempted to do so. His throat was too dry and he ended up coughing.

This alerted Much to the fact that his master was indeed awake. Robin heard something drop to the floor as Much stood. Suddenly he loomed into view. He pressed a hand to Robin's head, which Robin ineffectually tried to bat away.

'I have been so worried about you,' Much said.

*

It was some days before Much gave Robin the papers the King had left in his keeping.

Much was sitting outside the tent, by the fire he had built to ward of the night chill. Robin exited the tent, still slightly unsteady on his feet, and sat down beside Much.

'Where is the message the King left for me?' Robin asked.

Wordlessly, Much handed Robin the papers he had told him nothing about. Robin opened them and read in silence for a few moments.

'The King says we are to return to England, to help speed my recovery. I have been awarded a commendation,' he said after a while. Much watched him in silence, waiting for a response to the King's words. Robin looked up at Much, his eyes shining brighter than they had any right to, now his fever was gone. 'We are going home, Much.'

'We are.' Much said, still uncertain as to Robin felt.

Robin stood and dragged Much to his feet, pulling his friend into a hug that allowed Much to feel every single one of his master's ribs.

Robin released Much and Much could see he was grinning. 'We are going _home_, my friend.'

*


	9. Chapter 9

Marian awoke from a dream of blood-soaked sands. The dream of the Holy Land that had haunted her for months after Robin left had apparently decided to put in an appearance after several years absence.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly. It had been almost dawn when she returned from Clun after dropping off several food packages. It didn't appear to be long after that now. Her double life was taking a toll on her, she realised, as she rolled herself out of bed and glanced in her looking glass. One and twenty, she thought, but this morning she looked far older.

She looked outside, admiring the way the village and surrounding lands looked in the early spring light. There was a Council of Nobles meeting tomorrow. No doubt her father would require that she remain in Knighton today. Behaving herself. She wondered sometimes whether he knew of her night-time excursions to the villages?

Without a doubt there would be another lecture today on how she should conduct herself when in Nottingham. She should not expect her wilfulness to be tolerated because her father had previously held Vaisey's position.

Sheriff Vaisey was, in Marian's considered opinion, a monster. And an insane monster, at that. And Sir Guy was not much better.

*

As she had expected, her father did lecture her. He did so over the midday meal, talking while Marian pushed the food around on her plate.

'I want to go out, just for a ride into the forest,' Marian said.

'I need you here,' Edward replied. He regarded his daughter thoughtfully. 'Truth be told, Marian, I think you spend far too much time on horseback. You seem stiff today, daughter.'

Marian sighed and returned her eyes to her food.

After several moments there was a knock on the door. Edward rose and went to answer it.

After several moments, Marian heard

Marian rose and picked up the bow that rested against the wall by the front door.

'Edward it is us!'

Marian froze, she knew that voice. When her father did not welcome Robin she shook herself and stepped out behind him, fitting an arrow and raising the bow.

'You heard my father. Leave.'

Robin and Much stood staring at her father incredulously. As Marian came around the door, Robin's attention immediately shifted to Marian.

'Marian, it is me. Robin.'

Marian glared at him, schooling her features to ensure they betrayed no hint of recognition. 'Congratulations. Leave.'

But Robin, as ever, refused to be discouraged. 'How are you? I thought of you.'

'Leave,' Marian said flatly.

She and Edward retreated into the house. Edward moving inside the room while Marian remained by the door.

She caught some of the conversation taking place outside.

'Well,' she heard Much say in an injured tone, 'that was-'

'Interesting.' That was Robin.

'Interesting? That was unbelievable! He used to treat us like...well, like sons!'

'She is still unmarried.'

Marian could picture the look on Much's face. 'Oh! I thought you came to see the old sheriff!'

… and the look of injured innocence on Robin's. 'I did!'

'Marian?'

She turned her attention to her father. 'Did you know he was back?'

Her father looked puzzled.

'You have been in Nottingham today,' Marian said, 'and you did not look surprised to see him.'

'I heard a rumour.' Edward said. 'We must be careful who we ally ourselves with, Marian. According to rumour Robin was not very happy when he met Gisbourne at Locksley. He made his displeasure obvious. He could be a dangerous ally if he does not learn quickly.'

'I know, father,' Marian said, joining him at the table.

'You must not allow your feelings for him to cloud your judgement.'

'I have no feelings for him, father.'

*

Minutes later, Marian was in her room. The same thought kept playing through her mind over and over. Robin was back. And the first thing she had done was aim an arrow at his chest. _Fitting_, Marian thought bitterly.

He looked good, she realised. Very good. Too good, for someone who had left her over five years ago. Thin, but that was really to be expected. _Odd that Much did not look so thin_, the part of Marian's brain that noticed such things mused.

She felt as though a weight that had been pressing down on her chest for the last five years – _Five years! Has it really been that long? – _had dissipated. Robin was home. He was alive, he was whole and he was home.

And he seemed to be interested in the fact that she remained unmarried. It was just a shame that he meant nothing to her now. She rose and walked to the window. Robin and Much had elected to walk their horses to the edge of the village. She watched as they mounted up and rode for the forest.

_Nothing at all,_ she reminded herself, watching as Sherwood Forest swallowed him.

* * *


End file.
